A Healthy Breakfast
by TheHalfBloodConsultingHunter
Summary: Sherlock doesn't know what constitutes as a healthy breakfast for a two year old. John is torn between annoyed, upset and amused when he finds out. Just a simple one shot inspired by my nephew (:


Sherlock was the first one up that morning. After spending two hours tossing and turning in bed, he moved into the living room and positioned himself in John's chair so as to not disturb John. He didnt expect to be able to sleep, so he just turned on the television and kept the volume low, if not for anything but to just keep him sort of occupied.

He drifted in and out of sleep a bit and before he knew it, a familiar voice was speaking for close by. "Daddy, come on! Gotta get up!" Sherlock stirred from his light daze and opened his eyes to be met by the dark blues of the smiling two year old. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just past eight am.

_Not bad _he thought, recalling that Hamish had been waking early the past few nights. He'd slept straight through the night this time, though; Sherlock was pleased and knew John would be as well.

Sherlock sat up and stretched, nursing a slight ache in his right shoulder-blade from the way he'd been lying. It was minor and easy to forget. He wasnt too worried about it. The toddler retrieved his "bedtime cup" (he was teething again and this particular cup allowed him to subconsciously relieve the pain in his gums as he chewed on it) from the floor and pulled himself up onto the couch, patting the space beside him. "Daddy, come sit?"

Sherlock made a show of sighing heavily "I suppose I can… if I _have _to." he smiled down at his son and took a seat next to him, turning the television to the channel that kept the little one occupied, Sherlock retrieved his laptop from the side table and began typing his latest experiment results.

Hamish's eyes stayed fixed on the T.V for a while, occasionally even quoting the episode, though he had only seen it a few times before. He was a smart kid, really. Maybe not a genius like Sherlock, but definitely smart. He knew colors and basic shapes and could remember names to anything if he really wanted to.

After a while, Hamish started to get restless. He looked to Sherlock and mentioned something about breakfast. It was about nine thirty, then, and Sherlock supposed he _should _feed him… Only, he didn't know what to give him. there was a reason John usually took care of that. He didn't want to wake John, though, not that he was finally getting some sleep.

"Okay," Sherlock replied, setting aside his computer and lifting the child high into the air before settling him on his hip. "Let's see what we've got" He made his way into the kitchen and opened the cabinets. "What would you like to eat, Hamish?"

"Hmmm…" he considered it seriously, as though it were a very tough decision, before pointing to a package on the second shelf. "I have cookies?"

It was Sherlcok's turn to consider. He wasn't entirely sure that cookies were a good breakfast for a two year old. "Cookies, really? It's almost ten o'clock… are you sure you want them?"

"Yeah, daddy, cookies."

Sherlock shrugged and set Hamish on the counter, reaching up for the container. If he was asking for them, that meant John had given them to him before, right? Anyway, it's not like they could do any harm. Just a bit or sugar and chocolate. He retrieved two and handed them to his son. "No, more, please."

The detective chuckled, "Two is quite enough for now, Hamish. You can have more later."

The two resumed their earlier position on the couch and stayed there until John awoke about ten minutes later. "Morning, love." he greeted, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's temple before heading into the kitchen to make some coffee. Sherlock hummed in response. "How long has he been awake?" was the next question, voiced a few moments later from where John was leaning against the door frame.

"Just a few hours," Sherlock set aside his computer, done recording results and walked over to John to greet him properly. "He slept through the night. That's a good thing, right?"

"Hmm, yes, very good." John paused for a second, "What's all over his face, Sherlock?"

"Um…"

"Hamish, can you come here for a second?" It took a second for the words to register in Hamish's mind, but when they did he obliged without hesitation, sliding down from the couch and waddling over to the doorway they were still standing in. John lifted him up and inspected him.

"Is that… Sherlock, is that_ chocolate_?"

"It's quite possible, yes." his husband replied, knowing now that he was in trouble. Oh. Apparently John _didn't _give cookies for breakfast. Oops.

John rolled his eyes, incredulous. "Hamish, what did you eat today?"

"Daddy gave me cookies! Can I have more?" Sherlock hit his head lightly against the door frame. He wasn't supposed to rat him out so easily! That traitor.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes. dear?" he answered sweetly, smiling lightly at John.

"Did you seriously give him _cookies_ for breakfast?"

"It might have happened…" Sherlock pretended to think about it. "It's all a blur, really, it happened so fast and all…"

John tried not to smile, caught between wanting to scold his husband about the very poor health choice or laugh at the sheer innocence of it all. In the end, he reigned in the doctor and couldn't help but chuckle, turning back into the kitchen with Hamish and mumbling something about a real breakfast as he rummaged through the cabinets.

"In my defense, he asked for them!" Sherlock called to him, settling back down on the couch and changing the channel to something, _anything _other than the dancing and singing animals that currently occupied the screen.

Once Hamish was settled at the coffee table with a small bowl of cereal, John snuggled up to Sherlock's side, still smiling. "You have to be smarter than the child, Sherlock. You _are _the parent,"


End file.
